


With You

by Beepun



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Heavy on the comfort though, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, an attempt at TMAHCweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beepun/pseuds/Beepun
Summary: “Yeah, wait, listen.” Gerry sets down a book, looking forward as though Martin would be able to see his serious expression. “What if, in ten years you get super sick with the cold, right? And I don’t know how to take care of you then? We’ll both be wishing I had this practice under my belt, right?”It’s a ridiculous excuse, but it’s as truthful as it gets. Gerry’s never had anyone to worry about, never had anyone in his life who wanted him there. To be doted over or to dote on. But he has Martin now, and he’s not going to let little things like a cold be treated as such. Martin deserves more and Gerry wants nothing more than to provide.“You think we’ll be together in ten years?” Martin says in a small voice, made smaller still by the sound of sickness.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	With You

“ _ Look at you, strawberry blond- _ ”

Gerry’s tinkering with the new book display case when his phone rings. The sound of Mitski echos off the barren walls, the building still fresh from reconstruction and no patrons milling about just yet. The books, no Leitner’s and no evil monsters lurking about, do nothing to judge him his besotted nature. 

Martin had gone a wonderful shade of pink when he’d heard it before, and so Gerry found nothing but a blooming sense of joy every time it rang out. 

“Yeah?” He says into the phone, clasping it between his ear and shoulder to keep his hands free.

“Hey,” Martin sniffs, voice rough and scratchy. “I need to cancel dinner plans today, Ger-bear -” Unknown to Martin, Gerry flushes a strong shade of red. "- I caught Silvia’s cold. God I told her to go home-uh, well. I’m not feeling well, so, can I get a rain check?” 

_ God _ , Gerry can’t help but smile. They’d been at this seven months. Gerry had made a fool of himself trying to save a handsome stranger from the grips of Forsaken, and all he’d gotten for his trouble was  _ love _ . 

“So you don’t want to hang out with me, just because you caught a little cold?” He teases, voice light as he shuffles about the store, moving one box of books from one spot to another. 

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Gerry’s smile only grows. 

“ _ Hang out _ ?” Martin’s underwater voice raises to a squeak as Gerry huffs a laugh. “Oh my goodness! And here I thought I was going on dates, turns out we’ve been  _ pals _ this entire time.  _ Darn _ !” 

Gerry can’t help the joy that fills his lungs finds it’s way into the form of laughter. He can vaguely hear Martin laughing on the other side, a small sort of giggle that’s far more endearing than it needs to be. 

Martin sounds sick, horribly so. The thought of him cooped up in his shitty flat, all alone and cold, does something to him. Martin’s always been the one looking out for him, every time he gets hurt or falls ill, Martin shows up to his door with soup or bandages. Always with care, always with affection. 

“Hey,” Gerry says, though the moment of silence stretched on, it’s always a comfortable silence with Martin. “Get a bag and go to my place, yeah? I’ll be home soon.” 

“W-what?” Martin snorts, his voice thick and heavy. “But the store?”

“No, you’re right. I’ll pick you up. Don’t want you getting lost on the way there.”

Gerry knows the silence that follows. He can almost picture Martin, all alone, looking pleasantly confused at the thought. He’d want to stay away, prove he can take care of himself. He would want Gerry to get him, just to keep him from worrying. Which is the least selfish choice? Which places the least burden on Gerry? 

“Never taken care of a sick boyfriend before, you know. I need practice if I’m ever going to be good at it.” 

The surprised laughter is enough to put a soft smile back on Gerry’s face. 

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, wait, listen.” Gerry sets down a book, looking forward as though Martin would be able to see his serious expression. “What if, in ten years you get super sick with the cold, right? And I don’t know how to take care of you then? We’ll both be wishing I had this practice under my belt, right?”

It’s a ridiculous excuse, but it’s as truthful as it gets. Gerry’s never had anyone to worry about, never had anyone in his life who wanted him there. To be doted over or to dote on. But he has Martin now, and he’s not going to let little things like a cold be treated as such. Martin deserves more and Gerry wants nothing more than to provide. 

“You think we’ll be together in ten years?” Martin says in a small voice, made smaller still by the sound of sickness. 

“Well, yeah. Of course,” He says that with confidence, but he’s not sure what else to say. He’d meant to be honest, but not  _ that _ honest. His heart feels warm, raw, and delicate.“I uh, love you and all that.”

“Oh…” Martin sighs, something soft and sweet and if not for his cold, Gerry would want to taste it on his lips. “Well, okay. I-I’ll see you?”

“You sure will.” Gerry coughs to mask how flustered he sounds. He can imagine Martin’s delighted face, the way his lips push up his cheeks and his dimples show.

“Okay, oh, and Gerry?” Martin, despite the nasal tone of his voice, sounds too smug for Gerry’s liking.  _ Good _ , he thinks, Martin’s earned the right. “Very much  _ and all that _ to you too.”

“Damnit Martin,” Gerry laughs, rolling his eyes. “And all that to you too.” 

  
  


* * *

“ _ I think you soaked into my skin/ So much has come from nothing- _ ”

Gerry reaches over to shut off the radio as Martin opens the car door. It’s a terrible car, older than both of them put together. Martin isn’t sure it’s still legal to drive, or how it doesn’t actually qualify as a danger to all on the road. 

Still, it’s considerably charming. 

“Hey,” Gerry smirks, collected and charming. He’s got a sharp smile that always makes his stomach flutter, even when he would rather be buried under a pile of blankets. He reaches over, long black hair piled into a neat bun on his head, to press a kiss to Martin’s cheek. 

“Hmm,” Martin cringes instead of a hello as Gerry snorts a laugh. “That was a bad idea, you’re going to get sick.” 

“No way, I’m sturdier than I look.” Gerry gloats before taking off towards his flat. “Besides, we’re already moving. No going back now, Marto, this is a kidnapping.” 

“Gosh, you really think you’re so cool, huh?” Martin teases as his boyfriend tries to be offended. Gerry knows by now what Martin thinks of him. He’s a dork and he’s sweet, and he’s cooler than any one man has a right to be. 

The buildings fly past them, roads shift and he tries to keep what little food he’d eaten down. In the passenger seats, Martin sees two large paper bags. He wants to ask about them, but Gerry makes a particular turn that turns his stomach, so he groans and rests his head against the window instead. 

He reaches into his pocket for a tissue and blows his nose. Beside him, Gerry makes a grossed out noise that makes him chuckle. 

“My poor man, look at you,” He says, placing a hand on Martin’s thigh. It’s all Martin can do not to lean over and rest his full weight on Gerry. 

Martin should tell him to keep both his hands on the wheel, that’s how it normally goes. Gerry the bad boy, Martin the good son, both falling together in the end. The first time Martin helped Gerry with picking a lock, Gerry looked as though he’d won the lottery. But with the thrumming in his head and the wetness in his chest, Martin just wants to feel comforted. 

It’s a new feeling, still novel after seven months. He doesn’t need to make himself small, nor does he need to pretend to like anything. Sometimes, Martin can be rude or mean. Gerry seems to revel in his passive aggressiveness, cheers it on when someone is rude to Martin thinking they can get away with it. Gerry likes him all the same, even the parts of himself he’d been so convinced were unworthy. He’s allowed to want and demand and be annoying sometimes.

He’d had to practice at it, after Gerry said it would help tear the connection between him and the foggy place he’d almost been lost to. 

_ You need to belong to this world more than the other, you’re allowed to want. I promise, it’s okay Martin _ . So Martin had practiced. Had practiced accepting care. It was harder than it should have been, especially the little things that didn’t make sense. Gerry would buy him gifts. Gerry would reach for his hand. Gerry would wash the dishes and make the bed and vacuum and he wouldn’t get mad because Martin had forgotten something small. 

Martin had made the first move. He wanted Gerry, so he kissed him one night after they’d gone on a walk. It had been something small and light, and Gerry had balled his shirt in his fists and kissed him dizzy. 

He wanted Gerry, his time and his affection, he wanted the way he smiled. The way he wanted kisses in the morning despite morning breath. The way he would look at something with unyielding concentration as he planned out how to paint it in his mind. He wanted to wake up with Gerry, to rifle through his art books while Gerry read his poems, to dance in the early mornings to old songs. He wanted Gerry so much it scared him. 

“ _ Why? _ ” Gerry asked, after Martin confessed his deep feelings, his fear. “ _ I’m pretty selfless, Martin. In fact, all I want is what you’ve already given me. Your heart. _ ”

“ _ Smooth bastard, _ ” Martin had muttered.

And now they’re there. Seven months later, pulling up to Gerry’s flat. Well, soon to be their flat, Martin corrects. Gerry had pretty much decided they’d live together once Martin’s lease ended. Martin agreed, grateful for how firm Gerry was when he brought up the idea. No room for Martin to second guess himself or where he stood with Gerry when he’d plainly said he wanted Martin to live with him as soon as possible, that he was tired of not waking up with him. 

“So sweet,” Martin mutters, trying to take a breath through the wetness of his noise. 

“Yeah?” Gerry asks, after opening the car door for Martin. He hadn’t even noticed when they’d arrived, and Martin blinks at the bright light of the day. “Morning, sleepy head.” 

There’s a hand ruffling Martin’s mop of hair, and Martin leans into it as Gerry moves closer. 

“C’mon, let's get you inside.” Gerry offers his arm for support. Martin takes it, and lets Gerry take his bag in his free hand. 

Gerry’s warm. He’s wearing a loose tank top that shows off his arms, scars and tattoos and occasional fleck of paint. Martin wants to fuss at him to put on his sweater, but they’re inside the flat before it matters. 

He deposits Martin on the sofa, right as a coughing fit starts up. Martin coughs into his elbow, feeling his brain knock about inside his head. He hates it. 

A thick blanket falls heavy on his shoulders, causing him to blink and look up. Gerry’s got a soft look on his face, his hair loose around his cheeks framing in a way Martin can only call lovely. Gerry’s all sharp cheeks and sharp eyes and sharp grins. But he’s so wonderfully soft sometimes, like when he looks at Martin as though he were anything worth looking at. 

“What?” He asks, if only to try and distract his beating heart. 

“Just thinking, it’s kinda nice taking care of you.” Gerry says as he reaches forward to pull the blanket tighter around him. “You’ll make a good old man. All white hair and wrinkles on day. Im going to have to get you so many blankets.” 

“What…” Gerry always says things that knock the wind out of Martin for one reason or another. Usually, its absurd and strange in a way that leave him reeling, feeling the need to understand and pick apart Gerry’s mind. He wants to understand so badly, sometimes. But mostly, its things like that, casually mentioning that he wants a life with Martin. Not just a moment, not just a bit of his time, he wants Martin just as much as Martin wants him. “ _ God _ , I love you. I wonder what your tattoos will look like, will you still dye your hair?” 

“W-Yeah-I mean! Yeah! Once you go goth you never go back.” He says, taking a step away only to step back and quickly peck Martin on the side of the head. Then hes gone and Martin is alone. 

The flat that is not his home, but will soon be his home, was barren. It served more as a paint studio with a bed and a strange room that smelled of smoke. Over the last seven months, it has become something straight out of a magazine. 

Gerry had called Martin over one day, buckets of bright blue paint and tarps set out. He’d been wearing black overalls and heavy boots, and so many silver chains that Martin couldn’t help use them to pull him into kisses. 

The walls are a bright blue, the sofa a dark brown. There are paintings of Gerry’s own creation hanging on the walls, papers scattered over the coffee table. There’s a rug. 

_ I want you to live with me _ . And then it became  _ I want this to be a home for you _ . 

It was so much Gerry as it was Martin. A home they created together. 

* * *

Gerry’s excited. 

He’s got all the ingredients for chicken soup laid out in front of him. It’s his first time making a soup like with the intent to warm someone up. He never thought he’d be excited at the possibility of cooking with care, with love, with the end goal of a happy Martin. 

Martin. He keeps waking up and falling back to sleep. He’d given him some medicine, water, tissues, and Martin had watched a documentary on birds before knocking out on the sofa. The bed was comfier, but Martin had refused it 

“I just want to be closer to you..if that’s okay? S-Sorry.” He’d said, apologized even, as though the thought of Martin valuing his proximity to him didn’t send a thrill up his spine. The bed is comfortable, but it’s not as good as being near Gerry, apparently, 

Sometimes, as Gerry works, he shoots a balance at Martin’s sleeping form. The room is filled with the sound of classic rock playing softly and Martin’s ragged snores. It’s nice, it’s domestic. Gerry wants this life with Martin, he thinks they’ve both earned it. 

The care with which they move around each other, with one another, means the world to him. He’s never had anyone to care about, to think simple things like  _ how small should a carrot be cut? How much spice would he like? _ It’s so mundane, its so painfully normal, and it’s Martin’s greatest gift. To make these little things seem so wonderfully important. 

Gerry wasn’t a sappy man. He had a reputation to uphold. But damn if Martin didn’t make him feel the need to shout from rooftops, didn’t make him feel like he should be breaking out into song. 

These things weren’t possible before Martin. After Mary’s death. With her return. Despite it all, Martin remained. He had a reason to come back from every book hunt, from every encounter with a monster. 

The reason was, someone just as lost and lonely and scared in the world for reasons Gerry couldn’t understand, found him and decided to stay. Decided from the start that Gerry was worth holding, knowing, and loving. 

And all Gerry could do was make him soup when he caught a cold. 

“Wow.” Martin’s nasally voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “That smells good.”

He comes up behind him, wrapping his arms and blanket around Gerry’s waist. Martin’s only a few inches taller than him, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling an overwhelming sense of security wrapped up like that. Gerry leans into the embrace, a ringed hand rising to run through Martin’s curls as he rests his chin on Gerry’s shoulder. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Hm, better.” Martin’s voice is soft, his lips softer as he kisses his shoulder. “I got you.” 

“Hell yeah you do, got me doing domestic shit.” Gerry can’t help but grin. 

“Oh? You look good though!” Martin pinches Gerry’s painting apron between his fingers and gives it a small tug. “We’re not going to get lead poisoning, are we?”

“Oh no. You’ve discovered my secret plot.” Gerry elbows him, looking over his shoulder to watch as Martin’s face lights up. 

“Is that almost done?” 

“Just a bit more, are you hungry? I got some crackers and juice for you too.” 

Martin smiles, he smiles like the sun must have smiled when it realized it’s purpose. Giving light to the world, bright and beautiful. It brings something to life in Gerry every time, and no matter how many times he’s tried to paint it, he can never get it right. 

“Thank you, for everything. F-For thinking about me,” He knows Martins life enough to know why the idea of being cared for means so much to him. Still, he can’t imagine having Martin in his life and not caring for him. It was like a magnet, it was like an obvious statement. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Martin belonged in Gerry’s life to be loved. 

“Don’t like thinking about much else, if I’m honest.” 

They stare at each other, Martin with wide eyes and a growing smile. Gerry deliberately trying to maintain his calm and failing. 

“I blame you for that,” He all but sneers, no heat behind it. Another failed attempt to maintain face, that as always, makes Martin smile. Pride means very little compared to that sort of joy. 

“Um, c-can you put on a timer?” Martin sniffles, “I want to cuddle...If-If that’s okay? Just. We don't even have to. Just, we can sit together on the sofa?”

“I will absolutely cuddle you Martin, you can’t stop me.” He says, turning the stove down to low heat and then setting a timer. He turns, taking off his makeshift apron and tossing it onto the nearby chair. 

“You’ll get sick.” 

“And you’ll be there to take care of me, that’s what we do.” He says, grinning as he steps into Martin’s space. 

And Martin turns to sneeze loudly into his elbow, groaning as he doubles over. 

Okay, Gerry realizes, they’ll have to save that for later. He rubs Martin’s broad back with a firm hand, guiding him back to the sofa. He wonders what Martin must have been like when he was a sick child. Who nursed him back to health? 

Gerry won’t let The Lonely ever get to him again. He deposits Martin on the sofa, hands him a bottle of orange juice and tissues before tucking the blanket snug around him. Then he sits on the other side of the sofa and pats his thighs for Martin to use as a footrest. 

“We’re long distance cuddling.” He grins.

“That...Makes no sense, Ger-Bear, but okay.” Martin sighs, a smile playing on his lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was for TMAHCweek, but it got a lil too much on that fluff....but there's some reference of hurt/comfort? 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Sickfic & Overwhelmed


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